


Baby, Light My Fire

by SocialDegenerate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Character Death Fix, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, First Kiss, First Meetings, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Mikorei Week 2016, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8146688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDegenerate/pseuds/SocialDegenerate
Summary: A series of unconnected oneshots written for MikoRei Week 2k16Day One: First Time (M)Day Two: Missing (T)Day Three: Second Chances (T)Day Four: Helpless (M)Day Five: Happy Birthday (E)Day Six: Conflict (M)Day Seven: Reunion (E)





	1. Hazing

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand the week is finished. Enjoy!

Mikoto heard the rumours of a new King long before he saw him, and he had to admit that the buzz around the new guy had him mildly curious. Apparently he was younger than the former King, far closer to Mikoto’s own age than any other King that Mikoto had met.

Admittedly, he hadn't tried to meet many of the others out of sheer disinterest, but the new guy sounded like he could provide a few moments of amusement. Scepter 4 were always so stuck-up, and Mikoto had long ago decided to make it his aim in life to mess with them as much as possible. 

So when he heard that the new guy liked to walk around the city and _personally_ see what was going on, Mikoto found himself planning a little welcome for the new King. It wasn't like Scepter 4 were going to haze the guy, so the duty _obviously_ fell onto Mikoto’s shoulders.

Izumo had looked at him like he'd gone insane when he left the bar early one morning, but Mikoto had learnt that the Blue King tended to patrol nearby when it was still early, and he couldn't let the guy just walk around like he owned the place. Even if Mikoto only believed in it when it benefited him, there was still a hierarchy among the Kings and the new guy had to learn to respect it. HOMRA territory didn't need a Scepter 4 patrol.

It didn't take long for Mikoto to track down the Blue King, his ridiculous outfit sticking out among the more casually dressed citizens. Regardless of the fact that the man was more gorgeous than Mikoto had imagined, the long, stiff coat didn't look suitable for fighting, nor did the tight-looking pants, and Mikoto shook his head in mock disappointment. What good was a King who wasn't ready to brawl? A body that nice didn't deserve to be tucked away under a stuffy uniform, especially when the King’s face would have been a lot nicer without the general smug air that Mikoto could just _feel_ pouring from his expression. 

Pulling a cigarette from the box that he fished out of his jeans, Mikoto lit up with a smooth flick of his lighter and then smirked, letting the exhaled cloud of smoke hide his expression. He dropped his hand to his side, cigarette still burning away, and casually wandered towards the Blue King. Acting like he didn't even see the asshole in blue, Mikoto stiffened his shoulder a second before their arms connected as they passed each other, the Blue King jarring back at the unexpected contact. Because of the jolt he didn't even seem to notice the ugly brown burn that Mikoto’s cigarette had _accidentally_ left in the arm of his coat when they'd collided, and Mikoto had to hide his grin.

“Sorry,” Mikoto said, turning around to face the now-stopped King and sounding anything but genuine, “Hope that's not gonna leave a mark.”

From the slight way that the King’s eyes widened behind his glasses, Mikoto knew they were both well aware that the perfectly round burn hole couldn't just be washed away. The pristine uniform was no longer, and Mikoto felt a truly perverse sense of satisfaction about that. And to think, he hadn't even needed to use his powers.

Glancing up, Mikoto saw the new guy open his mouth to speak, before his shoulders tensed and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Suoh Mikoto,” the King said, his deep voice rolling over each mora. Shoving his free hand into his pocket, ruined cigarette still tucked between two fingers, Mikoto made a show of giving the Blue King a long, lingering look up and down.

“You know my name, but I don't know yours. Kinda rude, don't you think?”

The Blue King made a dismissive noise, and Mikoto’s attention was drawn to the way his long fingers began to stroke the handle of the sword that hung from his hip. If Mikoto hadn't doubted that a Blue King could even understand something as enjoyable as sex, he would have almost said that the man was being  _ suggestive _ .

“Apparently I should kill you on sight, or else you'll be nothing but a pain in my ass.” Those long fingers gripped the hilt of the sword, but the Blue King’s thumb flicked over the very end, tracing around it and rubbing across the rounded tip. “But if you're willing to destroy my clothes just to get me out of them, in public no less, then I might just have to consider being a pain in _yours_ instead.”

Mikoto huffed a vaguely amused laugh,wondering if the Blue King thought that would _really_ scare him off. If anything, the prospect of a good fight could get him harder than anything else, particularly when his opponent was a powerful young King with sharp features and a long, lean body.

“Gotta knock me down before you can be anywhere near my ass,” Mikoto drawled, well aware that his morning had suddenly taken an unexpected but not unwelcome turn. Dropping his cigarette, he shifted just slightly into a better fighting stance, watching as the King’s grip on his sword turned from playful to business.

“You're awfully cocky,” the Blue King murmured, not drawing his sword just yet. Mikoto just licked his lips and then grinned, all sharp teeth and dangerous fire. His cock was already beginning to pulse in his jeans, more from the prospect of shoving the pretty King face-first into the ground and beating him into submission than a little flirting, and Mikoto didn't even have the decency to feel bad about it.

The old Blue King had never wanted to play his games, preferring to either avoid fighting or refuse to ever go one-on-one with Mikoto. He hadn't expected to be challenged right off the bat, and the excitement he was feeling was enough to utterly confuse his body into thinking he was excited about  _ something else _ .

He idly wondered if he'd come when he won the fight. _That_ would be something else.

Eying each other off, the two Kings ignored everyone around them as they waited to see who would call their Sword first. Of course, it was at that moment that a beeping noise sounded from the King's pocket, and his hand was off his sword in an instant as the charged aura around the Kings dissolved instantly.

Without even looking at the beeping device, the Blue King sighed and flicked his fringe away from his eyes. “Duty calls, not that the Red King would understand anything about responsibilities, from what I hear.”

Before Mikoto could react, the other King was shoving past him, their arms colliding heavily just as they had earlier.

“Another time,” the Blue King said as he passed, and Mikoto turned and watched as the man walked away from him.

It wasn't over, Mikoto decided as he pulled a new cigarette out and scowled around it. HOMRA would never let Scepter 4 rest, and Mikoto was going to fuck that ass before the month was out, preferably after beating its owner bloody.

Taking a frustrated inhale, Mikoto threw one more glare into the distance, just barely managing to see the  _ irritating  _ coat that was approximately the same colour as his balls.


	2. That's Not How It Is

The sound of the bar's door opening pulled Mikoto out of his light doze, making him frown at the annoying disturbance. Couldn't a man sleep in a public bar during the day without being bothered any more?

Even though he was conscious again, Mikoto didn't open his eyes, not wanting the other HOMRA members to know that he was mostly awake. They'd want to _go places_ and _do things_ , and Mikoto just didn't have any interest in moving right then and there. They were all just so _young_ and _energetic_ , and Mikoto was getting too old for that shit. Izumo could deal with the kids, and with whoever had just come in the door.

“Awashima-san!” Mikoto heard Izumo exclaim, and he briefly considered cracking an eye open. If he remembered correctly, that was the name of Munakata’s lieutenant; why would she be in the HOMRA bar?

“Can I get you a drink?” Izumo continued, and Mikoto had to hide his knowing smirk at the poorly-disguised adoration in his voice. Mikoto didn't think much of Izumo’s taste in women, but it wasn't like he could get uppity about a member of his Clan attempting to fuck a Blue.

“I'm on the clock,” Awashima said haughtily, but Izumo sounded utterly unconcerned as he replied, “Maybe next time, then.”

There were a few beats of silence before Izumo broke it, Mikoto imagining him casually leaning on his prized bar. “Well then, what can I do for you?”

“I need to speak with your King.”

Mikoto only barely managed to avoid groaning aloud, not wanting to deal with anyone from Scepter 4 whom he wasn't actively fucking. And even then, he hated dealing with Munakata on certain days. The man could be a real prick at the best of times.

“I gotcha,” Misaki piped up, and Mikoto immediately felt someone begin to kick the end of his couch. “You got a visitor, King.”

“I heard,” Mikoto grumbled, finally opening his eyes and lazily glaring at Misaki before rolling his head towards Awashima. “What?”

“Don't be rude,” Izumo chided, only to be totally ignored.

“Do you know where my King is?” Awashima demanded, not at all shaken by Mikoto’s attitude. Raising an eyebrow, Mikoto stared at her, his inner fire going up against her cold demeanour.

Apparently realising that she wasn't getting anywhere, Awashima rolled her eyes dismissively. “He's missing. No one has seen him since yesterday and he's not answering his phone. Someone's actively rejecting the calls, but we don't know if it's the King or if it's someone else.”

Something that felt uncomfortably like worry hit Mikoto in the chest, but he ignored it and closed his eyes. “He's not here. Probably just took a sick day.”

“Munakata Reisi, taking a sick day?” Awashima asked dubiously, and Mikoto found himself silently agreeing. The man was a workaholic and had been known to keep accurately reviewing reports while Mikoto blew him under his desk. “Besides, his quarters are empty.”

“Then why are you asking me?” Mikoto asked, not letting himself dwell on what might have happened to Munakata. “He's obviously not here.”

“I thought he might have told you,” Awashima said simply, and Mikoto opened his eyes just enough to look at her with utter disdain.

“And why would he have done that?”

Awashima’s expression told him that she thought he was an idiot, and Mikoto just closed his eyes to ignore her again.

“Well, when it comes to _normal_ people,” Awashima said, her voice colder than ice, “Their partners tend to know where they might be.”

Mikoto’s eyes flew open, leaving him gawking at Awashima. “Their _what_?”

Ignoring the question, Awashima shifted impatiently. “If you don't know where your boyfriend is, it's a good sign that something is wrong.”

“Fuck off,” Mikoto said, a sick feeling sinking into his gut. “He's not my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” Awashima agreed, obviously not believing him. “Well, can you call him?”

“No,” Mikoto said, “Why would my call get picked up if yours aren't?”

“Never watched an action movie, King?” Misaki piped up, sounding far too amused. “The hero’s wife always gets the hostage call.”

“I'll beat your ass,” Mikoto snarled.

Misaki just laughed, not looking at all threatened. “Just call your boyfriend, King.”

“I'm only doing this to prove you wrong,” Mikoto frowned, grudgingly pulling his phone out of his pocket. Munakata wasn't his boyfriend. They fucked around, but there was nothing _serious_ between them. Rival Kings couldn't be like that, and even if they'd never really talked about it, that sort of thing didn't need to be said.

...Right?

Dialling Munakata’s number, Mikoto glared at every single one of the _assholes_ around him as he listened to the endless ringing, putting the phone on speaker to _prove_ that Munakata didn't care about him. He was about ready to chuck it in when the ringing was abruptly cut off, Munakata’s exasperated voice coming down the line.

“Suoh, I'm with my parents. Can this wait?”

“Um,” Mikoto said a little dumbly, hitting the call end button out of sheer panic.

Munakata, the work-obsessed extraordinaire, was ignoring his lieutenant’s calls but answering Mikoto’s. But they weren't dating...right? They didn't even _like_ each other most of the time. Sure, they went out for meals sometimes, but that was more for convenience’s sake than anything else. And Munakata stayed over more often than not, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

Slowly glancing up at Awashima and Izumo, Mikoto watched as Awashima frowned, horror dawning in her eyes.

“Oh my god, I thought he was joking. He told me last month that he was going to visit his parents...I didn't even think he _had_ parents.”

He couldn't take any pleasure in her humiliation, though; he was too sure that his face looked much the same as hers, shocked and taken aback by a sudden realisation.

“Oh fuck, we _are_ dating.”

Pushing himself off the couch, Mikoto shoved his way behind the bar and grabbed the nearest bottle, straight alcohol burning as it went down his throat. Izumo’s attempts to stop him went ignored, Mikoto too thrown off balance to care about anything beyond getting booze down his throat.

Munakata Reisi was a fucking asshole who was obsessed with his job and had some truly stupid hobbies...and apparently Mikoto was dating him.

Fuck.


	3. Live On

Staring up at the sky, Mikoto sighed as he took in the sight of his Sword, broken and crumbled and too far gone to ever recover. It was the end of the line for him, he supposed; like any Red King, he’d burned too brightly and now it was time to pay the price.

Out of everyone he knew, Munakata might not have been his first choice for whom he wanted to witness his death, but at least Mikoto knew that Munakata would kill him before his Sword could cause an explosion. He didn’t think that any of his boys could have gone through with what needed to be done, and he’d sooner die by his own hand than make Anna play a part in his death.

Telling himself that he really was ready to die, that he had no regrets and that death was his best choice, Mikoto let a small, wry smile spread across his lips as he continued to stare up at his Sword. “Sorry for making you do the dirty work.”

When Mikoto finally looked over at Munakata, it felt like the world narrowed down to just the two of them. Whatever Munakata said next was lost under the sounds of Mikoto’s blood rushing in his ears and his pounding heartbeat, something twisting hard in his gut as he saw the sadness, the guilt, the regret and the _pain_ in Munakata’s eyes.

In a last-ditch effort to not second guess his quickly wavering resolve, Mikoto spread his arms wide, inviting his Sword to fall and Munakata to come for him. “You’ve said enough, Munakata.”

It was too late to go back now; Mikoto figured he only had a few moments before his Sword dropped. Time seemed to slow down as he watched Munakata briefly hesitate before running towards him, his face twisted in sorrow.

He had been expecting a sword- a smaller one than the monstrosity in the sky- to push through his chest; so it was a shock when Munakata grabbed him by the shoulders, fingers clenching tight even through his jacket, and dragged him up against his body.

“There’s still time,” Munakata said urgently, his words rolling into one as he raced to get them out while Mikoto’s Sword sparked ominously above them. “Give up your powers.”

Mikoto shook his head, his arms still spread wide. “I can’t.”

Being a King was his entire life. Without his powers, he had nothing, and he’d sworn to never go back to being weak.

But then he thought of Anna, of Izumo and Misaki and the rest of Homra, and of the man clutching at him like he was a lifeline. There had always been something that sparked between them, but until now he and Munakata had never touched outside of battle; a fleeting thought had Mikoto wondering what things might have been like had he chosen to act on his curiosity.

Mikoto’s knees went weak as his Sword sparked again, brighter and larger and more final than any before it, and his heart pounded even harder as one thought plastered itself across his mind.

_I don’t want to die_.

“ _Please_ ,” Munakata chose that moment to beg in a broken voice, and Mikoto felt the last vestiges of his resolve disappear.

Without the express permission of his rational mind, Mikoto’s mouth opened and the words he’d been afraid of began to spill out. “I abdicate.”

Feeling Munakata go still, Mikoto closed his eyes and continued. “I give up my powers and renounce the title of Red King.”

For a moment it seemed like he was too late. He could still feel the fire in his veins, and his Sword was about to fall. And then, like he’d suddenly been submerged in a bath of ice, Mikoto felt the true bite of the cold wind whipping at him for the first time since he’d been a teenager.

It was a fuck of a shock, Mikoto thought as he slumped against Munakata, consciousness leaving him as quickly as his power had.

* * *

The first few months were the hardest.

Even Mikoto’s natural laziness couldn’t stand up against his utter loss of purpose, and HOMRA began to splinter without a King to hold them together. Mikoto felt like he was freezing no matter how many layers he piled on, and he could only wonder if he’d ever feel warmth again.

And then Anna was crowned, and Mikoto took the opportunity to throw his- admittedly lacking- energy behind making sure that she didn’t make the same mistakes he had. Although, in saying that, he was fully aware that she was far smarter than he’d ever been, even at her young age. She’d watched him self-destruct, and that alone was a far greater lesson than anything else he could teach her.

All in all, it was a quiet, cold existence, and Mikoto had taken to pretending to be napping whenever HOMRA went out to do clan business. He couldn’t stand the pitying looks and gentle excuses, even if he was half sure that he was making them up in his head.

One afternoon he was still on the couch in the bar, HOMRA having disappeared to cause some trouble after hearing that the Blue Clan were going to be running some kind of training op in the city. His plans for fake napping were quickly turning into plans for a real nap, and he’d just gotten comfortable when he heard the front door of the bar open.

“We’re closed,” Mikoto called, rolling over to settle better into the couch.

“I know,” a familiar voice replied, and Mikoto slowly sat up.

He hadn’t seen Munakata since the day at the school. The Blue King hadn’t come for him, and Mikoto hadn’t been able to dredge up the energy to seek him out. He’d largely just assumed that Munakata hadn’t wanted anything to do with a former King, a powerless nobody; if he’d had the motivation to care, Mikoto might have been angry that Munakata begged him to live and then tossed him aside.

As it was, he was mostly just tired.

Closing the door behind him, Munakata made his way to the couch, hesitating for a moment before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch to Mikoto. The silence between them felt heavy and Munakata looked uncomfortable, too regal and uptight and _blue_ for the casual atmosphere of the HOMRA bar.

“How...are you?” Munakata finally said, and Mikoto surprised even himself with the huffed laugh that escaped him.

“That isn’t right,” Mikoto said, not interested in answering the question. “Caring looks weird on you.”

“You’re still the same asshole as always, then,” Munakata shot back, his lips twitching. Mikoto looked away with a hint of a smile, but the exhaustion had settled in his bones and he wasn’t particularly interested in conversation with the man who remained a mystery.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But you’d better be quick about why you’re here, HOMRA’ll be back soon.”

“No, they won’t,” Munakata said, turning his body more towards Mikoto. “Do you _really_ think that I would be stupid enough to let your idiots know about my real training sessions?”

Mikoto wasn’t quite sure what to say about that, so he stayed silent. After a few moments, Munakata shifted just a little closer, adjusting his glasses as he spoke again. “I wanted to see you.”

“Well, here I am,” Mikoto said with more venom than he’d intended, spreading his arms wide. Munakata flinched back for a moment before regaining his composure, and Mikoto was quickly reminded of the last time he’d seen Munakata.

“This isn’t going to work,” Munakata muttered, more to himself than to Mikoto. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Going to stand up, Munakata froze mid-motion when Mikoto knocked his leg against Munakata’s, a frown on his face and his eyes staring at the wall. “Why did you do it?”

Munakata didn’t even pretend to misunderstand the question. “I didn’t want you to die.”

“It might have been better if I had.”

“ _No_ ,” Munakata said, and the force of it surprised Mikoto.

“No,” Munakata repeated again, turning around and planting his knee on the couch, leaning towards Mikoto. “I don’t regret what I did, what _you_ did. I should have come sooner.”

“I don’t care,” Mikoto said, but it rang untrue and they both knew it. Pulling his gaze from the wall, Mikoto looked into Munakata’s eyes, the Blue King a lot closer than he had been.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Mikoto opened his mouth to make a comment, something that would hurt Munakata as much as the fire he no longer had and make him leave, but then a long-fingered hand was grasping his chin and Munakata’s breath brushed against his face.

Mikoto could feel Munakata’s power when they kissed, thrumming just under the Blue King’s skin, and for a second he thought that the all-encompassing _yearning_ that filled him was for the power he’d once had; but as he leaned into Munakata to chase the feeling of magic with his lips, he realised that it wasn’t Munakata’s _power_ that he wanted.

“We’ve been given a second chance,” Munakata murmured when he finally pulled away, his lips slick and his eyes bright. “I don’t want to waste it this time.”

Never one for confessions or emotions, Mikoto just fisted a hand in Munakata’s coat, dragging him in for another kiss, this time more heated and needy than the first. He still didn’t feel whole again, wasn’t sure if he ever would, but for a moment he felt less cold and Mikoto was certain it wasn’t just from the warmth of Munakata’s body against his own.

It was a start, and that was all that really mattered.


	4. Just Like Colonel Mustang

“C’mon, Blue King,” Mikoto taunted, one hand shoved casually in his pocket and the other engulfed in unnatural flame. “Show me what you got.”

Munakata flexed his fingers around the hilt of his sword, repositioning his grip. Mikoto had been testing his patience even more than usual, and Munakata was determined to land a decent hit. The first few drops of rain that hit his hands barely even registered, a simple shower not enough to make him give up when Mikoto was _right there_.

Taking a step forward, he faltered when Mikoto suddenly dropped his hand, his eyes darting around uncertainly before he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders with fake ease. “This is boring. Later, Munakata.”

The Red Sword vanished from the sky, and all around them Munakata saw HOMRA members scatter. Mikoto took advantage of Munakata’s momentary distraction to disappear, Munakata catching sight of him as he disappeared around a nearby corner. The abrupt change in Mikoto’s mood was enough to raise Munakata’s suspicions, and he waved his Clan to stand down before following the other King.

The light shower was quickly picking up as Munakata followed Mikoto down the street, and he was about to give up and go somewhere dry when Mikoto started to _sprint_ , Munakata doing the same before he even realised what was happening. In all the years he’d known Mikoto, Munakata had never seen the man move that quickly.

Amble, yes; stroll, yes; sprint, _never_.

If that wasn’t enough for Munakata to think that Mikoto was up to something serious, then nothing ever would be. Even the now-pouring rain barely registered with Munakata as he ran, staying just far enough back that Mikoto wouldn’t know he was there.

He didn’t hesitate to follow when Mikoto turned into the HOMRA building, although he was careful to close the door quietly as Mikoto disappeared up the stairs at the back of the bar. The rest of the Clan didn’t seem to have returned yet, and Munakata was left to drip on the floor in peace as he silently moved through the bar and upstairs.

The door to what Munakata assumed was Mikoto’s room was wide open, Munakata arriving just in time to see Mikoto swearing to himself as he pulled a dry pair of jeans over his bare ass. His wet clothes were in a pile on the floor and there were drops of water running down his back, Munakata temporarily frozen as he watched water trace across solid muscles.

As if he sensed that he was being watched, Mikoto suddenly stiffened and whipped around to look at the door, his eyes widening and then narrowing as he saw Munakata standing there.

“Enjoying the show?” Mikoto asked, anger just barely simmering under his uncaring tone. Munakata frowned when he thought he saw a flash of vulnerability in amber eyes, the shock of it enough to keep his eyes from trailing down to Mikoto’s bare chest.

“What are you up to?” Munakata demanded, taking a step into the room. “Why did you run?”

“Fuck off,” Mikoto snapped, his hands balling into fists at his sides. When Munakata took another step forward, Mikoto took one _back_ , and it was odd enough that Munakata rushed the other King, shoving him up against the nearby wall with a hand splayed across Mikoto’s wet chest.

“ _What are you up to_?” Munakata repeated, waiting to feel burning heat under his hand as Mikoto fought him back.

But all that came was a wild swing that Munakata easily avoided, releasing Mikoto’s chest so that he could pin his arms to the wall. There was no fire, no spark, no heat, and Munakata frowned in confusion as Mikoto barely even bothered to put up a struggle.

Munakata swallowed uncomfortably, the real weirdness of the situation quickly beginning to set in. Mikoto was acting suspiciously, and he was oddly docile under Munakata’s hold; their bodies were pressed together from chest to hip, with only Munakata’s soaked clothing separating them.

It was a situation that Munakata didn’t want to admit he’d considered once or twice in vastly different context, and he let Mikoto go before taking big steps backwards. Mikoto rubbed idly at his wrist before leaning back against the wall, his casual pose betrayed by the tension in his shoulders. “Are you done?”

“You’re not fighting me,” Munakata said, his mind working fast. “Why aren’t you fighting me?”

Mikoto just glared, looking half-drowned and vaguely sulky, like someone had snuffed out his inner-

“ _Fire_ ,” Munakata said aloud, realisation dawning on him. “You can’t use your fire when you’re wet.”

“Yes, I can,” Mikoto said, obviously lying.

“Then light me up.”

Mikoto just glared harder, and Munakata couldn’t help the surprised laugh that escaped him. “You’re useless in the rain!”

“I can still beat your ass,” Mikoto snarled, taking a threatening step forward before hitting Munakata’s protective Blue Aura and being stopped. It was laughably easy for Munakata to get Mikoto up against the wall again, the King helpless without the full use of his powers.

“Remember this,” Munakata said in a low voice, unable to resist tilting his mouth towards Mikoto’s ear. “The next time you think about pissing me off, remember this. I know your weakness.”

A sudden flash of unexpected heat had Munakata sliding back, the burning not as strong as Mikoto usually mustered up but enough to catch Munakata with his guard lowered. There was no flame, but as interesting as it was to have a helpless Mikoto pinned underneath him, Munakata had to admit that the prospect of a good fight got him going so much better. He was a patient man. He could wait until Mikoto was at full strength again.

Licking suddenly dry lips, Munakata turned his back on Mikoto and walked out of the room, pausing in the doorway to look over his shoulder.

Mikoto was still standing against the wall, his damp hair a mess, and Munakata _wanted_. Seeing underneath the Red King’s power had stirred something in him, something that he’d abstractly known was there but that now was pulsing to the surface; and Munakata ached to be burned.

“Next time, Red King,” Munakata said, his voice coming out embarrassingly husky, “You’re mine.”

Mikoto just sneered, the muscles in his arms flexing as he crossed them over his bare chest. “Bring it on, Blue King.”

Head held high and excited dick trapped in his tailored uniform pants, Munakata ignored the various HOMRA members now gathered downstairs as he left the building, anticipation running through him at the thought of his next fight- _and_ at the knowledge that he knew just how to leave Mikoto utterly helpless beneath him.

Suoh Mikoto really did bring out the worst in him, and Munakata loved every single moment of it.


	5. AKA Mikoto Avoids Spending Any Money On Munakata's Birthday Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I put out [Wild Abandon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6745015) I had an anon ask me to write more of Mikoto eating Munakata's ass and so here we are.

Saturday nights at the HOMRA bar were always busy, and although Mikoto enjoyed the money that the customers brought in, he missed the quiet peace of weeknights. He wouldn’t have been downstairs at all had he not wanted a drink, but he was about ready to murder each and every one of the noisy assholes around him.

At least his generally disagreeable aura meant that no one had decided to sit next to him at the bar, letting him take up as much room as he wanted.

That was, until Mikoto felt someone enter his space, lightly brushing against his arm as they sat down _right_ beside him, despite the fact that there were several empty stools scattered along the length of the bar. It was annoying but not the end of the world, and Mikoto had resolved to ignore the intruder when an unhesitating hand suddenly slipped onto his upper thigh.

Ready to give the _asshole_ next to him a piece of his mind, Mikoto turned and faltered when he saw the regal profile of one Munakata Reisi, who was leaning over the bar to signal at Izumo. Without his blue uniform, it was unlikely that anyone else in the bar recognised the Blue King, but Mikoto could tell that he was already catching people’s attention even in only his perfectly tailored pants and simple button-up shirt.

Mikoto would be jealous if he had the propensity, and if Munakata’s open collar wasn’t displaying the edge of a particularly spectacular hickey that Mikoto himself had put there a day earlier.

(Munakata had complained that it looked tacky, as he always did; but Mikoto had seen him looking in the mirror and gently trailing his fingers across it before wrapping his uniform cravat around his neck.)

“Thought you said you’d be at work tonight,” Mikoto drawled, turning fully in his seat and resting his elbow on the bar to prop up his head. “They finally fire your ass?”

“Funny,” Munakata replied dryly, flicking his fringe out of his eyes with his free hand. “No, Awashima recruited a number of others to physically remove me from the Scepter 4 headquarters, so I supposed I would come and see what you were up to.”

“See, you _do_ work too hard. You gotta be more like me,” Mikoto said, leaning towards Munakata with a lazy smile. The disgusted wrinkle of Munakata’s nose was an utterly expected response, and Mikoto smiled a little wider as he sat back.

“Here,” Izumo suddenly announced, popping up and placing an empty glass in front of Munakata. Grabbing a rarely-used bottle of expensive Scotch from behind the bar, Izumo poured a generous amount and then nudged the glass towards Munakata. “On the house.”

“What? This asshole makes more in a week than this place does in a month. Make him pay for it,” Mikoto demanded, the smallest hint of playfulness in his voice. Munakata just rolled his eyes and took a sip from the glass, nodding his approval.

“Thank you, Kusanagi-san.”

“No worries,” Izumo said with an amused smile. “Scepter 4 aren’t my favourite people but I’ll play nice with the boss’ boyfriend on his birthday.”

“How-” Munakata started, only to cut himself off with a sigh as he removed his hand from Mikoto’s thigh to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to ban Awashima from fraternising with you.”

Izumo just laughed, but Mikoto was squinting suspiciously at Munakata. “It’s your birthday?”

“October first usually is,” Munakata said as he took another sip. “I don’t bother celebrating.”

“Did you _not_ know this?” Izumo asked Mikoto, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. “Not a great look, King.”

“Hey,” Mikoto shot back, not quite sure why he was defending himself but unable to help it, “It’s not like he was around for my birthday.”

“He _was_ here, you just don’t remember it,” Izumo said. Frowning, Mikoto thought back to the utter piss-up that his birthday had- as per usual- turned into, and realised that he really couldn’t be sure either way. Sighing in irritation, he downed the rest of his beer in one big swallow, picking up the Scotch from the bar and holding it to Munakata’s lips.

“Finish it,” Mikoto said, ignoring Munakata’s confused stare and closed lips to tilt the glass until liquid just touched his mouth. Munakata eventually had to open his lips to stop Scotch from splashing down his face and shirt, still glaring at Mikoto as he was forced to swallow the rest of the drink.

“That’s _not_ how you drink Scotch,” Munakata said once the glass had been emptied and casually tossed back on the bar.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mikoto muttered, standing up and hooking two fingers in the back of Munakata’s collar. “C’mere.”

Munakata followed along simply to avoid being dragged off his barstool, pulling Mikoto’s hand away once he was properly on his feet. “What’s your problem? I told you, I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

“Present,” was all that Mikoto grunted in reply, pushing through the door to the stairs and leading Munakata up to his room. Munakata had an inkling of what was going on when Mikoto locked the bedroom door behind them before nudging Munakata back into it, hot hands grabbing his hips to hold him in place.

“What d’you want me to do?” Mikoto asked, not giving Munakata a chance to answer before he leant in and took Munakata’s lips with his own. He knew that Munakata liked to be challenged, to be held in place while lips and tongues and teeth clashed, and so that was just what Mikoto did.

Munakata’s hand ended up tight in the back of red hair as they kissed, every tug jerking Mikoto’s hips forward against Munakata’s own. Still chasing the taste of expensive Scotch, Mikoto pressed the length of his body against Munakata’s as he licked inside his mouth, Munakata letting out a muffled groan as he was trapped against the door.

“What do you want?” Mikoto asked again after he pulled away, a little breathless and with his hips grinding little circles against Munakata’s. “I’ll give you anything.”

Putting his lips to a long, pale neck, Mikoto began to unbutton Munakata’s shirt as he kissed and licked at the spot that made his boyfriend shiver. Tugging Munakata away from the door just long enough to pull his shirt off and away, Mikoto had him right back against it once he was topless, goosebumps appearing all over his skin from the cool wood behind him and the hot man in front of him.

“Anything?” Munakata repeated eventually, his usual composure nowhere to be found.

“ _Anything_ ,” Mikoto said again in a deep voice, sucking a new hickey on the opposite side of the old one.

Mikoto missed the playful smile on Munakata’s face, but he certainly noticed when Munakata went right back to his normal unaffected voice, as if he wasn’t half undressed and actively being felt up. “I could do with a few new puzzles and some nice tea.”

Mikoto’s unamusement was obvious as his teeth sank into Munakata’s neck, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to be a decent warning.

“ _Fine_ ,” Munakata sighed as if it were some great imposition, lightly stroking the back of Mikoto’s head while he reached down to grab a handful of toned ass with the other hand. “I’ll allow you to...let’s see…”

Humming in consideration, Munakata started to knead Mikoto’s ass through his jeans and encourage him to move his hips a little faster. “I know, I’ll allow you to eat me out.”

Mikoto’s hips stuttered, and Munakata could tell that he liked the sound of that. Pushing a hand between their bodies and up against Mikoto’s chest, Munakata forced him back a few steps, immediately feeling the cold as the Red King’s natural heat left him. Munakata kicked off his shoes and flicked open his belt, Mikoto watching him hungrily as he left his clothes in a messy pile on the ground.

He’d usually care more, but it was his birthday. He was allowed to be a little indulgent.

“Well?” Munakata asked expectantly, stepping around Mikoto and staying just out of the range of reaching hands. With far more grace than would usually be expected of someone with a painfully hard cock, Munakata lowered himself onto Mikoto’s bed, sprawling back against the pillows and drawing one knee up towards himself.

Mikoto’s clothes quickly joined Munakata’s on the floor, Mikoto wasting no time in parting Munakata’s legs and sliding between them so that he could hover above him. Another heavy, frantic kiss left Munakata _wanting_ , and he placed his hand on Mikoto’s shoulder, insistently pushing him downwards. Mikoto took the hint without argument, sliding his hands down Munakata’s naked body until he could grab the backs of his thighs. With little effort, he tugged Munakata down the bed, giving him a lascivious look before pulling his legs up until Munakata was almost folded in two.

It was the kind of exposed, vulnerable position that Munakata had always thought he’d hated, until he’d realised that Mikoto was truly willing to do _anything_ for him. There was power in knowing that another King was entirely ready to _quite literally_ kiss his ass, even if it didn’t always feel like it while his legs were near his ears.

“You’re so hard,” Mikoto muttered, almost reverent as he ran a finger from the tip of Munakata’s cock and down over his balls. His cock jumping from the sudden attention, Munakata shifted a little until he could hook his feet over Mikoto’s shoulders, letting his knees splay wide.

“Impatient?” Mikoto asked, wincing when Munakata tapped him maybe a _little_ hard with his heel. He wanted to make Munakata feel good, but it was just too fun to stir the other man.

“ _Suoh_ ,” Munakata warned, but his command voice didn’t work quite as well when he was on his back with his ass in the air.

“Shhh.” Just gently, keeping the pressure teasing, Mikoto ran his dry finger over Munakata’s hole, feeling the way that Munakata’s legs tensed up at the sensation. Tracing faint lines around Munakata’s ass and over his taint, Mikoto waited until he was almost shaking with anticipation to press his lips against tight hole in an obscene kiss.

“ _Finally_ ,” Mikoto thought he heard Munakata say, and he briefly considered pulling back just to fuck with him. But the thought of Munakata falling apart under him was better than the thought of him getting up and leaving, and so Mikoto opened his lips and let his tongue drag _slowly_ across Munakata’s ass.

“Fuck,” Munakata breathed, and the sound of his arousal-strained voice had Mikoto’s hips flexing as they searched for much-needed friction. His position didn’t allow him to find any, but he _did_ have an idea that left his mouth feeling a little dry.

“Talk to me,” Mikoto said. Munakata craned his neck so that he could look at him questioningly, but Mikoto just licked his lips and smiled. “Talk dirty to me, baby.”

“Isn’t that your thing?” Munakata asked, trying and failing for a dismissive tone. Another lick across his hole had Munakata’s head falling back against the pillow, and Mikoto knew that he’d won.

“Usually, yeah, but my mouth is a little,” another long lick, “ _busy_.”

Munakata shuddered, his voice tremoring just a little as he said, “Mikoto...I love your mouth…”

Mikoto laughed a little against Munakata’s hole as he attempted to press the tip of his tongue inside, tight muscles keeping him out. Munakata let out an amused voice, quickly followed by a pleased one when Mikoto managed to force his way inside.

“Actually, I fucking _despise_ your mouth,” Munakata said, huffing out a breathless laugh. “But sucking cock is something you’re actually good at, and you’re usually such a pain in my ass that it’s only right that you should kiss it better.”

He trailed off, making Mikoto stop what he was doing to lift his head and clear his throat. “Keep going.”

“I want your tongue inside me,” Munakata said eventually, shuddering when Mikoto once again started to wriggle the tip of his tongue inside him. “I want any of you inside me: your tongue, your fingers, your dick…”

Humming in approval even as his tongue was still making its way inside Munakata, Mikoto felt his cock drip a little more precome. If he moved a little, maybe he could…

It wasn’t exactly _comfortable_ , but Mikoto slid his body back and lowered Munakata’s hips enough that he could press his dick against the bed while still being able to eat Munakata out. The new position meant that he needed to hold Munakata’s ass open to get at his hole, but Munakata didn’t seem to mind as he took his cock in hand, just teasing the head with long fingers for the moment.

“Or maybe I’d prefer to fuck you tonight,” Munakata continued once they were both positioned properly again, pushing his ass into Mikoto’s face as the probing tongue changed to alternating licks and kisses. “Bend you over and shove as many fingers as I can inside you until you’re gaping and desperate for me.”

Munakata knew that he was sounding more and more like Mikoto with every word, but the man had a way with filthy words that Munakata couldn’t help but try and copy. If the way that Mikoto seemed to be rubbing himself off against the bed was any indication, it seemed that he was succeeding.

“No…” Munakata said, consideringly, momentarily losing his train of thought when Mikoto’s teeth scraped against the super-sensitive skin of his hole. “No, actually, I want to ride you.”

Finally grabbing his cock properly, Munakata began to jerk himself off, in no mood for teasing slowness. Not when Mikoto was eating his ass like he was desperate for it.

“I want to fuck myself on your cock,” Munakata decided, his hips rocking between his fist and Mikoto’s mouth. One of Mikoto’s dry fingers was just barely pulling his hole open, and the feeling of that clever tongue getting deeper had Munakata’s fist working faster. “I’ll use you until I come all over your chest, but I won’t let you come inside me until I feel like you’ve _earned_ it.”

Mikoto groaned, low and long, and Munakata’s eyebrows rose as he felt Mikoto’s tongue stop moving as the man just panted.

“Did...did you just come? Before me?” Munakata asked, letting go of his dick to prop himself up on his elbows and staring at the top of Mikoto’s head.

“Fuck off.”

“It’s _my_ birthday,” Munakata said haughtily, reaching a hand down to grab Mikoto’s hair as he began to rock his hips again.

“I don’t celebrate,” Mikoto mocked in a high-pitched voice, the words muffled by Munakata. Still, he flicked his tongue at Munakata’s ass, continuing to eat him out as Munakata once again jerked himself off.

“Just for that,” Munakata said, his legs beginning to shake, “I’m putting a cock ring on you.”

Mikoto groaned, sounding ruined, and something in Munakata snapped. Pushing his hips as best he could into Mikoto’s face until Mikoto’s tongue was thoroughly buried in his ass, Munakata felt his wrist start to ache from how quickly it was moving. He kept going, though, and let out a loud moan as his cock began to spurt come all over his bare torso.

Mikoto kept licking him for as long as he kept coming, only stopping when Munakata used the grip on his hair to physically pull him away.

Looking up from between Munakata’s legs, Mikoto’s face was flushed red, with his lips swollen and his chin glistening with saliva. If Munakata hadn’t just come, that sight alone would have been more than enough to do it for him, and he swallowed heavily as Mikoto sat up and inspected the mess he’d left on the sheets below him.

Figuring that it was already damaged enough, Munakata grabbed a corner of the top sheet and tugged, wiping the come off his chest before it could dry and then flopping back against the mattress, sated and boneless. Mikoto quickly dropped down next to him, a warm, reassuring presence even as he complained about the state of his bed.

“Happy birthday to me,” Munakata mumbled, staring at the ceiling as he heard Mikoto let out a quiet laugh. Mikoto’s face soon came into his field of vision, but Munakata planted a hand in the centre of his chest and stopped him from coming any closer for a kiss.

“I’m going downstairs for another drink. Get dressed, brush your teeth and meet me down there...then we’ll see where to go from here.”

Mikoto groaned unhappily at the thought of having to _move_ , but Munakata knew he would see his boyfriend downstairs soon enough. Hauling himself off the bed, Munakata quickly dressed himself and patted his hair down, barely sparing Mikoto a second glance as he let himself out of the room.

He had _so many_ plans for the rest of the night; maybe it really was a good idea to start celebrating his birthday again.


	6. Bad End

Munakata knew that he only had himself to blame, but that didn't stop him from mentally attempting to find a scapegoat anyway. He knew better than to take his job less than seriously, and as he was pinned to the ground with Mikoto’s hand burning painfully into his throat, he wondered if this was his last big fuck up.

The look in Mikoto’s eyes hurt the most, Munakata decided. The pain and betrayal there hurt more than the hand that was gradually cutting off his air while burning finger-shaped brands into his skin.

But no matter how hard he tried, Munakata still didn't have anyone else to blame for the whole situation. He'd put that look in Mikoto’s eyes, and he deserved whatever Mikoto would do to him.

* * *

Munakata yawned as he slumped a little further across his desk, all pretences gone due to the late hour and his empty office. His day had been, as Mikoto would say, absolutely shitful, and he was utterly exhausted.

He couldn't leave until he'd finished approving Strain arrest warrants, and the finer details were beginning to all merge into one big unreadable mess. Although he'd usually never cut corners as the head of Scepter 4, there was a pounding headache behind his eyes and Munakata just wanted to sleep.

So maybe he wasn't reading things _quite_ as closely as he should have been, but it didn't really matter. His Clan was efficient enough to take care of any rogue Strains, regardless of the fine print. If he'd been in a better state of mind, Munakata would have been ashamed of the fact that, by the end of the documents, he was mostly just signing things without properly reading them.

As it was, though, he swiped the last file off his tablet screen with little more than a cursory glance, before tossing the device onto his desk and standing up. If there were any issues, he could deal with them later; he just wanted to sleep.

Most of the day-to-day work they did was bullshit anyway, not that Munakata would admit that to anyone else. It wasn't like a few moments of inattention could really hurt that much.

* * *

“I won't let you take her,” Mikoto snarled, his fingers tightening again around Munakata’s throat. Around them, Blue and Red clansmen were fighting, and Munakata realised with a sinking heart that the Blue Clan was losing. He hoped that the couple of motionless bodies on the ground were simply unconscious, but if they weren't then Munakata hoped that Mikoto really did end up killing him.

His own decision to neglect his work had led to so much injury, and Munakata knew that if he lived, he would understand if both his Clan and his partner wanted nothing more to do with him.

There was no excuse for what he'd done, and now his life was literally in Mikoto’s hands.

* * *

Munakata was in a meeting when his emergency line went off, a sure sign that one of his squads had run afoul of another Clan or even a King. Feeling far more alert than the previous evening, Munakata was out of the conference room and heading towards the transports in a moment, Awashima soon joining him.

“Which team is in trouble?” Munakata asked her as the transport pulled out, waiting a little impatiently as she opened the information on her tablet.

“The beacon is coming from…” Awashima frowned, holding the tablet a little closer to her face. “Oh, no.”

“Awashima?” Munakata said, unable to see the screen from where Awashima was sitting across from him.

“Why did you sign off on this?” Awashima replied, something akin to disgust just barely flaring to life on her face. “I thought you had an agreement to ignore her as long as she didn't cause any trouble.”

A sinking feeling hit Munakata in the gut and he held out his hand, Awashima silently handing him the device. The innocent face of his boyfriend's adopted daughter-figure stared back at him from the screen, and Munakata’s hands began to just barely shake.

The Strain retrieval program was largely automated, cross-referencing with reports of Strain activity, but Anna was supposed to be invisible to the system. Fushimi had programmed the exploit in personally, even if he thought that Munakata didn't know about it. He might have left HOMRA on bad terms, but apparently he still held some affection for the young girl who had been caught up in some terrible things. Munakata wasn't about to call attention to the exception, trusting that Mikoto would keep her under control.

Apparently, though, something had gone wrong, and Anna had found her way into the arrest queue. On any normal day, Munakata would have noticed the file and dismissed it, but _of course_ it had happened the one time that Munakata had let his attention slip.

“We have to retreat,” Munakata ordered, tablet clenched in his hand as he looked out the window to see Mikoto’s Sword in the sky.

“We can't,” Awashima disagreed. “If HOMRA are fighting, we have to contain the fires and evacuate the area.”

Munakata could already see unnatural fires burning in the distance, and he knew that Awashima was right. If he could just _explain_ to Mikoto what had happened, everything would be fine; but Munakata knew how protective Mikoto was of Anna.

There was no way that this would end well.

* * *

Munakata hadn’t been putting his all into the fight, knowing that he couldn't hurt Mikoto for just trying to protect his youngest Clan member.

He'd sent his own Clan to attack a _child_ ; there was nothing forgivable about that.

It seemed like Mikoto noticed his reticence to fight back, and the fingers around his neck loosened ever so slightly.

“Why would you do it?” Mikoto demanded, his Aura sparking around him. “Anna _never_ did anything wrong.”

For a brief second, Munakata’s need to do his duty warred with his personal feelings, but he fought the feeling back as he forced air through his constricted throat.

“It wasn't meant to happen,” Munakata croaked. “She isn't meant to be in the system.”

“They tried _to take her,”_ Mikoto snarled, shaking Munakata a little with his grip. “You let them do it.”

Munakata couldn't refute that, his gaze going to the side and making Mikoto’s grip tighten again.

Just as Munakata wondered if he was truly going to suffocate, the pressure and the heat disappeared, Mikoto standing up and glaring down at Munakata to make him feel all of an inch tall.

“I'll kill you if I see a Scepter 4 member anywhere near Anna again,” Mikoto spat out, his face making the promise clear as he began to walk away.

“Mikoto!” Munakata coughed as he watched his boyfriend's back, knowing that if Mikoto walked away, he might never get him back.

“Fuck you,” was the only reply, Mikoto not bothering to look back as he gestured for his Clan to leave.

Munakata deserved the hurt winding its way through his chest as Mikoto left, the burns on his skin nothing compared to the knowledge that Mikoto wasn’t going to forgive him.

A few moments of harmless inattention; yeah, right.


	7. Happy Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is a reincarnation fic, their new family names are just alternate readings of the kanji that make up their original names.

Reisi’s shoulders loosened as soon as he pushed through the door to the bar, the dull roar of noise and the smell of smoke instantly beginning to relax him. It had been a hell of a week, one where he'd wondered if it was really all worth it.

Working as a cop was the only thing he'd ever wanted to do, but his coworkers were assholes and the work was unforgiving. He could feel it wearing down his very soul, and all Reisi wanted was a fucking drink.

It seemed like the usual bartender saw him coming, what with the drink and the ashtray that were put on the bar in front of him as he took a seat, and Reisi briefly nodded at the young woman working behind the bar. She smiled back at him with the usual amount of bartender flirtatiousness, but Reisi knew that it was more from reflex than anything else. Customers who thought they had a chance bought more booze, and she'd once explained that she operated mostly on autopilot, even with the customers she'd only ever seen go home with men.

Other than the smile, she left him be, Reisi draining half his drink before tapping a cigarette from his mostly-empty packet. He didn't smoke often, but the smell had somehow always relaxed him, and he let himself indulge every so often.

Patting his pockets for a lighter, Reisi was about to ask the bartender if she had one when there was a sudden flame in front of his face. Jolting a little, Reisi took the offered light before turning to face the other person, exhaling smoothly through his nose.

The man beside him was handsome, with long-ish red hair and tanned skin that was covered in winding tattoos. But handsome was a dime a dozen, and Reisi was about to thank the man and move on when bright amber eyes suddenly met his own.

A jolt of recognition had Reisi taking a second look, but he didn't think he'd ever seen the wild-looking man before. Still, something in his eyes spoke to something inside Reisi, and he found himself turning his entire body towards the man as he flicked ash off his cigarette.

“Thanks,” Reisi said, not exactly smiling but softening his eyes a little. The man smirked back at him, the faint lines beside his eyes telling Reisi that he was probably a few years older than Reisi himself.

“No worries,” the man said, his voice deep and rolling. Already, something in the way he looked, the way he spoke, the way he moved had Reisi’s attention; it was the kind of instant attraction that Reisi rarely felt.

“What's your name?” Munakata couldn't help but ask, wanting to know who the familiar stranger was.

“Subou Mikoto,” the man replied, pulling out a cigarette and letting it sit loosely between his lips. His eyes still looking into Reisi’s, he leant forward and pressed the tip of his cigarette to the burning end of Reisi’s own, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “You?”

After a brief second of hesitation, cop paranoia warring with the irrational urge to get close to Mikoto, Reisi smiled gently. “Munesue Reisi.”

“Nice to meetcha,” Mikoto drawled in a bored voice, cigarette still hanging from his lips. The bobbing stick dragged Reisi’s attention to Mikoto’s mouth, and Reisi already knew how this was going to end. Another drink, another cigarette, a few more pleasantries, and Reisi stood up, leaning close to Mikoto under the guise of being heard over the noise of the bar.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” he said, somehow completely confident that Mikoto would understand and accept the unspoken invitation. He could say that he'd never met Mikoto before, and he still felt like he _knew_ him. It was comforting and disconcerting all at once, but Reisi knew what he wanted _._

Head held high, Reisi headed into the men’s room, tapping his shoe as he waited impatiently. Before too long, Mikoto wandered casually into the room, giving Reisi a knowing grin and letting himself be shoved into the nearest stall. Reisi barely bothered to lock the door behind them before crowding Mikoto up against the wall, glad that he wasn’t the one pressed against the questionably clean surface. But Mikoto either didn’t think about that or didn’t care, casually grabbing hold of Reisi’s hips and dragging him close.

Their first kiss tasted like cigarettes with the slightest hint of alcohol underneath, and Reisi found himself melting into Mikoto’s grip as he buried one of his hands into surprisingly soft red hair. The other traced down the length of Mikoto’s chest, just barely hooking into the waistband of his jeans, and the slight roll of Mikoto’s hips was enough of an invitation for Reisi.

With a gentle nip to Mikoto’s bottom lip, Reisi let his hand slide out of Mikoto’s hair and down the side of his face. For the briefest moment his fingers faltered as they brushed against an unpierced ear, Reisi _certain_ that Mikoto should have had an earring, but Reisi shook himself out of it and leant in to suck at the underside of Mikoto’s strong jaw to cover his sudden unease.

He’d never even _met_ Mikoto before; how could Reisi possibly even know what he was meant to look like or be wearing?

The feeling of a strong thigh pushing between his legs brought Reisi back to himself, and as he pulled away from Mikoto’s neck to meet his eyes, he suddenly felt _calm_. Horny, sure; A little needy, not that he’d admit it out loud; but beneath it all was the kind of calm that Reisi didn’t think he’d ever felt before. He was usually distanced from his one night stands, only letting himself close enough so that they would both get off, but he would have given Mikoto anything that he asked for in that moment.

That feeling should have been terrifying for someone as naturally closed-off as Reisi.

For whatever reason, it wasn’t.

Another quick kiss and Reisi lowered himself to the floor, still looking up into those familiar amber eyes. He could feel Mikoto’s cock under his hand, hard and straining into his jeans, and Reisi knew he had the same throbbing heat in his own pants. There was no hesitation as he opened Mikoto’s jeans and pulled his pants and underwear to the ground, Reisi’s cock jumping as he exposed Mikoto’s straining dick to the air.

Letting instinct take over, Reisi didn’t put his lips or his hands on Mikoto right away, instead leaning forward to sink his teeth into an unassuming patch of skin at the top of Mikoto’s solid thigh. He wasn’t sure what led him to that particular spot, but Mikoto groaned loudly and his hand wrapped into Reisi’s hair, precome slowly leaking out of his dick and making the head glisten in the dull bathroom light.

“Suck me off,” Mikoto said, deep voice rasping a little over the words, and Reisi leant back a little to sit on his heels and look up at Mikoto again. A hand went up to adjust his glasses before he remembered that he’d worn his contacts, but Reisi let the mistake go and instead moved to squeeze at Mikoto’s upper thigh.

“Make me, Red,” Reisi said unthinkingly, challenge dripping off every word. The nickname was sudden but he decided to run with it, seeing an answer to his challenge springing up in Mikoto’s eyes.

The hand that wasn’t in Reisi’s hair reached down, Mikoto’s thumb pushing gently between Reisi’s lips. “Open up.”

Reisi opened his teeth just enough for Mikoto’s thumb to slip through, but he softly bit down on it, looking up to see Mikoto’s eyebrow raise. Letting the wall take his weight, Mikoto used the toe of his shoe to nudge Reisi’s knees further apart, Reisi all too willing to oblige.

Mikoto’s shoe pressed between Reisi’s legs, light pressure against his cock that Reisi somehow _knew_ wouldn’t get worse. It was a promise, not a threat, and Reisi replaced his teeth around Mikoto’s thumb with a gentle brush of his tongue instead.

Pulling back, Reisi began to slowly jerk Mikoto’s cock, rocking his hips a little against Mikoto’s foot. “Talk to me.”

Dirty talk wasn’t usually something that Reisi enjoyed, finding it tacky and often overdramatic, but in that moment he wanted nothing more than for Mikoto’s voice to talk him through a blow job.

“Wha-...” Mikoto started, only to tilt his head to the side and swallow, his eyes narrowing a little as he started again. “I want to see my cock pushing out your throat.”

It felt like the words went directly to Reisi’s own cock and he groaned, pushing Mikoto’s foot away so that he could shuffle in closer and run his tongue over the wet head of Mikoto’s dick. Still, he couldn’t resist taking a little jab, and he let a hint of a smile curve his lips. “You’re not that big.”

“Less talking, more sucking, Munesue,” Mikoto said, sounding bored even as his fingers caressed Reisi’s hair. Something about the way his surname rolled off Mikoto’s tongue sounded _bad_ to Reisi’s ears, and he paused the movements of his hand.

“...Reisi,” he said to Mikoto, not watching Mikoto’s reaction as he leant in and swallowed as much of Mikoto’s cock as he could take.

“ _Fuck_ , Reisi,” Mikoto sighed, immediately catching onto Reisi’s rhythm and rolling his hips in sync. “You take cock well.”

The praise struck some deep thing inside of Reisi’s gut and he took a deep breath through his nose, wanting nothing more than to take all of Mikoto’s cock. He gagged before he could get to the base and had to pull off, gasping a little for air and only barely thinking to stroke Mikoto with his hand while he recovered.

“You’re literally _gagging_ for it,” Mikoto murmured. “Your mouth is so good.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Reisi leaned in again, leaving one hand on Mikoto’s cock while the other grabbed at his hip. Mikoto was thick and heavy on his tongue and Reisi shut his eyes, revelling in the feel and the taste and the smell of _cock_. He began to bob his head back and forth, feeling Mikoto’s grip tighten in his hair, and lost himself in Mikoto’s pleasure.

“Reisi,” Mikoto eventually said, sounding a little breathless as his hips began to jerk harder, “I’m gonna come. You gonna take it?”

Reisi’s moan was muffled by the cock down his throat, and he made no move to stop sucking Mikoto off. The knowledge that Reisi was going to swallow seemed to be the thing to throw Mikoto over the edge, and he pulled on Reisi’s hair hard enough that Reisi’s eyes flew open, the slight pain making his own hips jerk.

Whether it was a trick of the shitty light, a side-effect of his eyes having been screwed so tightly shut, or something else altogether, Reisi could have sworn that Mikoto looked different as his body strained and his head fell forward in orgasm. Tired eyes, shorter hair, and paler skin; they all disappeared as Reisi blinked a few times, barely managing to remember to swallow as Mikoto came down his throat.

The taste wasn’t exactly ideal but Reisi took it all, only pulling away once he was sure that Mikoto had finished. He was on his feet in an instant, easily escaping Mikoto’s now-loose grip, and proceeded to take Mikoto’s face in his hands and lick into his slightly slack mouth.

“Come home with me,” Reisi said once he was done, only vaguely realising that he’d _never_ said that to a one night stand before. “I want to fuck myself on your cock. I’ll use you until I come all over your chest.”

Amber eyes met violet, and something indescribable passed between them. Mikoto was a stranger whom Reisi could have sworn he’d known forever, and as Reisi grabbed his wrist to tow a willing Mikoto out of the bar, he knew that this was something special.

Judging by the way that Mikoto was obediently following along with his whims, Reisi figured that he knew the same thing.

‘ _The Red King was never one to do anything he didn’t want to_ ,’ Reisi thought, and it was probably the throbbing in his pants and the warmth of Mikoto’s skin against his own that stopped him from questioning where that thought had come from.

Not that it really mattered anyway; all Reisi cared about was that he had _so many_ plans for the rest of the night, and for however long that Mikoto would stay by his side.

(It was uncomfortably early to be thinking it, but something deep inside Reisi’s brain told him, with unwavering certainty, that it would be forever.)

**Author's Note:**

> [Come talk to me on Tumblr](http://socialdegenerate.tumblr.com)


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